A Climbing Betty's journey to find love & strength in the mountains

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Whoa! My poor, neglected blog. In my defense, I’ve been pretty busy doing ‘the thing.’ My climbing season started the first week of April and it’s been nearly full-steam ahead since. Even with the little hiccup of a tweak to my left A2 pulley, I’m back to leading as hard as I was at the end of last season, which gives me a lot of hope that I’ll be breaking into the next number grade by the end of this season. I finally got to climb with DH a day last week and it was exciting to hear from him that I’m really placing excellent gear, so that also gives me the confidence to begin to push it a bit!

The BIG news though is where my head is at so far. See, here’s my dirty little secret. I’m not naturally small and lean like many climber chicks, especially the really good ones. I’m definitely a classic ‘pear’ shape (read: probably the worse shape for climbing!). For many, many years of my climbing career, the story in my head (my excuse, really) is that I’m just too fat to be able to climb as hard as I want to climb.

I have invested a lot of time and energy in this story over the years, so I’ve had to invest even more time and energy to tear it down. For instance, all of my goal climbs for this season I can climb without falling on top-rope. So I have to remind myself that my body is physically capable of doing these climbs without falling. Therefore, I can lead them. So what is stopping me is not that I’m ‘fat,’ it’s that I’m scared. Odd as it may sound, its easier to accept the ‘fat story’ than the ‘I’m just scared’ story. Probably because with the ‘I’m too fat’ story, I don’t have to change anything. In those moments that I am standing under the climb, looking up at it and contemplating the lead, I can’t do anything about being fat in those moments, whereas I could choose to be scared and do it anyway. But if I blame my body, I don’t have to do the harder thing- I don’t have to be afraid.

The hidden cost of this ‘fat’ story though, is that I was constantly defeating myself on any efforts I made to get in shape or eat better. In a way, I didn’t want to do these things because if I succeeded- if I lost weight- I wouldn’t have my convenient excuse available for when I wanted to wuss out of doing a climb.

There’s an idea in the psychology literature that people are basically motivated in their actions and behaviors by one of two things: they are either motivated to move in the direction of something they love or are passionate about or they are motivated to move away from something that causes them pain. We all do both of these of course, depending on the area of our lives, our previous learned experiences, etc. However, some people, through their upbringing or genetics or something, tend to be more positively motivated whereas others tend to be more negatively motivated.

Once I learned this concept, it kind of hit me like a ton of bricks. I was square in the ‘negative-motivation’ category. I would choose easy climbs, or make excuses for why I couldn’t or shouldn’t do harder climbs because I was primarily motivated to avoid the fear of being on the sharp end. I would start a workout routine or a diet with the negative-motivation of trying to move away from the pain of self-hatred & disgust. Upon seeing it so clearly, it was also easy to see how these strategies clearly were not working for me! Suddenly it made complete and total sense as to why I would say I wanted one thing in my life, but my behaviors and actions seemed to indicate that I wanted the opposite! All this time, I thought that that incongruence was just because I was lazy (another painful thing to berated myself for!) but it turns out that nope, I just had my mind attuned in the wrong direction.

Somewhere about the beginning of April, I was struck by an idea. One of the things I do possess is a strong and powerful mind. Perhaps I could find away to put that gift to use to change my situation; to start being motivated by love instead of fear. I decided to embark on a month long journey of “radical self-love” where I was just going to accept and love everything about myself, even the parts that I didn’t think where very worthy of that love. Especially the parts that I didn’t think were very worthy of that love (I’m looking at you, Cellulite on my thighs!).

I started simply. I challenged myself to journal regularly and to start each entry with 3 things I love about myself, focusing primarily on my body (because it’s easy to say things like ‘I’m smart’ but much harder to say things like ‘I love my thighs’). I also challenged myself to change to my relationship with food. To feed myself like I would feed a daughter or someone else that I loved- with lots of wholesome, healthy foods.

Interestingly, this journey didn’t conclude in a month as much as it evolved. Especially once I tweaked my finger pulley, I knew I need to find something to do to help me stay active. I decided to get in to trail running. At various points in my life, I have been a runner. I even ran a marathon 8 years ago. After that experience though, I pretty much felt like I had run enough for the rest of my life and was not motivated to run anymore. I hate the treadmill with a passion. Cardio at the gym bored the heck out of me, etc. I knew that if I was going to be motivated to do it consistently, it needed to be something I enjoyed. Trail running, luckily, is that for me. And also luckily for me, there are tons of awesome and fun trails minutes from my home. It became fun and addicting to explore new sections of the Ridge on my own two feet. I also love trail running because its perfectly acceptable to walk up the big hills and even to go slow, especially over really technical terrain. It also puts me out in nature, which I love because its feeds my soul as well as my physical body. Once I found something that I enjoyed and once I change my mindset from ‘I’ve got to do cardio because I’m fat’ to ‘I want to run because I enjoy it and I enjoy taking care of my body,’ it became so much easier to get out of bed and go for a run in the morning! No mental fighting with myself. No extreme acts of willpower. Just being motivated to do and follow something that I loved.

With this evolved mindset, it was much easier to put myself in training. I started to think of myself as an athlete, which gave me the motivation to want to take the best care of myself that I could. I started following the training plan from Training for the New Alpinism. I’m only in Transition Week 3 so far, but I feel amazing & fit and I’m so excited for what I’ll be able to do when I ‘peak’ around the first of the year- just in time to go hard for ice climbing and ski mountaineering!

Other people are starting to notice too. A couple girlfriends have mentioned that my arms look more toned or that I look thinner through the torso. Another friend followed me as I busted up a rocky ascent trail with very little huffing & puffing and remarked about how all the trail running seemed to be paying off. In the gym today, I actually really liked what I saw in the mirror! I’ve lost a few pounds, but nothing too big yet and maybe an inch off my hips. (Also, I can’t say that I exactly ‘love’ my cellulite, but I have given up making gagging and retching noises when I see it in the mirror.:-) ) I’m more excited about being down about 2% body fat in three weeks and I know that with time, the rest of it will come.

And if doesn’t, I’m totally OK with that. Because my goal is to be fit and healthy and I know that I can do what I want to do, even if I never drop another pound. Because I know that all that is stopping me is that 3 pound squishy thing between my ears. Because I know that if I choose to pursue the things I love instead of avoid the things I fear, no matter what number grade I climb or what number shows up on the scale, I’ve already won. <3

Just in case you’ve been living under a rock lately, the Reel Rock tour is making the rounds around the country. Unlike previous years where the evening consists of several shorts of longer films, this year one film is featured in its entirety: Valley Uprising.

The fruition of over 7 years of filming, Valley Uprising is an epic film and one that I think will become a classic. If you watched or owned any of the Masters of Stone films on VHS back in the day, Valley Uprising will be the Masters of Stone for the new generation.

And it couldn’t come at a better time.

Our sport has changed drastically since the days of Royal Robbins and Warren Harding’s feud that fueled some of the most fabled stories of our culture. Back then, climbing was a fringe sport and the only way to get started was to know someone who climbed (high unlikely) or to grab some nautical rope, some sneakers and just give it a whirl- and hope you don’t die. Today, there are climbing gyms all over the place and most people can try climbing indoors, on plastic in a very-low risk environment. Many of today’s climbers are extremely talented athletes and yet have barely grasped real, actual rock.

This has all kinds of implications- both positive and negative, depending on your perspective. Today’s climbers are kind of like the Z-boys of Dogtown. Without knowing any better, without knowing how you are ‘supposed’ to do it, they figured out their own way, synthesizing something completely new without really intending to that completely and radically changed the sport. Modern climbers, without ready access to climbing mentors who teach how its ‘supposed’ to be done, are free to be more creative in how they engage in the dance with gravity. Before bolts and hang-dogging, who would have thought to climb a route like Realization or La Dura Dura? Such routes would have been impossible under the ground-up, traditional protection-style.

And yet, there is something about Royal Robbin’s original ethic on style that calls to all of us; that purest-ethic that dictates that a clean/minimal fixed gear, ground-up, single push ascent is more valuable, more respectable, more worthy than of any other means of ascent. I think this style calls to all of us because it is the pinnacle of achievement. In this style, it is just the climber and the rock. If you are strong enough, you succeed in ascending. If you are not, you come back stronger and try another time. The rock is the yardstick by which we measure ourselves. Anything less than ascent in the purest style indicates we may be lacking.

Now before you go there, dear reader, I understand the slippery slope this argument can be. “But what about crampons, or rock shoes, or even the rope itself? Aren’t these the trappings of less than ideal style? According to this style logic, we should all be attempting to free solo everything like Dean Potter or Alex Honnold.” Yes, the line of reasoning regarding ‘style’ dictated by Royal would logically end with all of us free soloing everything. Not only would that be downright ridiculous, it would be incredibly dangerous.

But this is what I thought was so incredibly well-done about the Valley Uprising film. By documenting the origins of this style-ethic in the Robbins-Harding feud, and then showing how this influenced and shaped the generations of climbers that came to Valley afterwards, we can see how this generation’s top climbers have pushed this style to it’s pinnacle- Dean Potter ‘free-basing’ on El Cap or Alex Honnold free soloing El Cap and Half Dome in a day. Could we truly appreciate such accomplishments without the understanding of where we have come from (Warren Harding’s first ascent of the Nose took almost 2 years) or without understanding why we would place so much value on an extremely risky activity (free soloing)? If we look at the non-climbing public’s reaction to Honnold’s 60 Minutes interview, (‘he’s crazy!’ ‘that’s ridiculous!’ ‘who would do such a stupid thing?’) the answer would be “no.”

Not only does the story told in Valley Uprising give context to the accomplishments of today’s top climbers, it will inform the future of our sport. Today’s climbers need to know where we come from as a culturally as a sport in order to forge the ground-breaking ascents of tomorrow. And hopefully it will inspire us normal folks to try a little harder as well 🙂

I have a deep and intimate relationship with mountains. Mountains are my sanctuary. When it all gets to be a little too much, I find myself getting that familiar itch…

I start looking at maps, scheming & dreaming. I pour over gear websites and go through my mental gear inventory for a possible adventure. I start scrutinizing my purchases more closely- less food means more money for travel! I salivate over my friend’s and acquaintances’ Facebook photos.

Through the years, I’ve learned the that I don’t have to travel to far flung places or need a ton of gear to indulge the itch. Sure, the grander the adventure, the longer the relief from it lasts, but sometimes, I need that quick fix.

I’ve been feeling the itchy feet lately. I had a little bump a few weeks ago in the White Mountains, but now its time for another one- Daks maybe? I was thinking more about this today- dissecting the anatomy of this urge- trying to understand better where it comes from why it becomes so strong at times. My mountainlust has caused strife in my relationship on a few occasions. The question has been leveled at me- why do you need to travel to the mountains when we live in them? It’s a question that has haunted me over the years.

I use to think it was because these weren’t ‘real’ mountains. I prefer my mountains craggy and snow-capped, thank you! I grew up in the Appalachians and I suppose I’ve always taken them for granted. They aren’t very high and rarely hold snow except in the depths of winter. No marmots or pikas or mountain goats are to be found on their flanks. And you most certainly don’t have to worry about being below treeline before the after thunderstorms.

But after this recent bout of the itch, I realized that despite my preference for the mountains of the West, even if I lived in them, this itch would follow me and I would have to find a different mountain range. Because the real thing that the mountains provide me is a sanctuary from the banality and stress of life. In the mountains, life is distilled to its essence. Eat, Sleep, Survive, Repeat. There are no bills, creditors, bosses, family drama, etc. in the mountains. Just dirt and sky and things that might try to eat you and things that might kill you. It’s all very primal and I think it helps put me in touch with that ancestral thread that runs through all of us really.

More importantly, it provides an odd sort of focus.

It’s kind of like climbing at night with only your headlamp. You can’t be afraid of the yawning abyss below if you can’t see it to know that it is there. All you can focus on is that 3 meter circle of light and what is illuminated by it. You are forced to take what’s up ahead- the future– as it comes because you can’t see it to anticipate it. What’s below you- the past– is sweep away as well. There is only that present moment; that circle of light.

And so moving in the mountains can be. Life is enchantingly simple in the mountains. Legs and lungs burn as the burdened body strains upward against gravity. Step, breathe, repeat. Rest, refuel, get up and do it again. I am addicted; in love with the simplicity, the escape….

The other week I was listening to The Enormocast. I’m a little behind so I was listening to the episode where Chris interviewed four climbers at the Red Rock Renedezvous. I loved this little schtick he did called ‘The Hanging Belay’ where he asked 5 or 6 questions in rapid succession. One of the questions was, ‘when was the last time you cried on a climb?’

For me, that answer would be “two weeks ago.”

Now, personally, I think 5.9 slab is enough to make anyone cry. In fact, in my house, we have joke: “What’s the pro for 5.10 slab? Zanax.” I’m not really good at slab. I’m a Gunks climber, so I do the same move over and over again- reach up, grab the big jug, high-step, repeat until the belay/top-out. I’ve got that move down. I’m comfortable with it. I’m pretty sure slab is the exact opposite of Gunks climbing. So part of my problem was I just wasn’t any good at this particular 5.9 slab- delicate moves, few handholds, lots of trusting one’s feet/sticky rubber. No room for thuggy moves or my beloved high steps.

And this route had a traverse at the beginning. I hate traverses. So I was gripped. I was petrified to fall, so I reacted. I started to get mad at my partner for dragging me on that climb. Didn’t he know I suck at slab? I know he knows I hate traverses and yet, he dragged me up this climb anyway. In his defense, he had never been on this particular climb before, so he didn’t really know what he was in for either.

Conflated with fear, I wasn’t thinking or acting rationally. I had to give my fear an outlet. I started to curse like a sailor as I simply willed my feet to stick to the rock as I moved off of the first bolt. By the time I reached the next stance, my feet and calves were cramping and simply cursing was not enough. I looked up at my partner at the belay and flipped him the bird. I used both hands because, hey- it was slab- my hands were damn near useless anyway. As I continued, I started to curse him. He blew it off at first, but he could only handle so much abuse at my hands and tried to calm me down. As I became aware of my bad behavior and how it must appear to the party below, I became really self-conscious and ashamed. And that’s when I started to cry. Once the first tear fell, the floodgates opened and I cried my way through the top half of the climb.

I should note that my partner that day was my husband. I can remember three and only 3, distinct incidents where I have cried while climbing. All with him. I just never let myself get that emotionally vulnerable with another partner. Not while climbing at least. I may whine, I may whimper, I may curse like a sailor, I may nearly pee my pants (expensive Gore-Tex pants I might add), but I never cry. Just with him.

As embarrassing as it is when I have these breakdowns, which isn’t often, I’m really glad that I have a partner like him that I can be that vulnerable with. I can be that vulnerable with him because I trust him completely. Not only do I trust him to handle my emotional reactions, but I trust him to be a completely competent climber and I trust him to push me- just a little. Most days, that’s a really great thing because I grow and learn from the experience and it makes me a better climber. Every once in awhile, that push is a tad too much- or more, realistically- the push is just enough, I’m just not in the right frame of mind to accept and meet the challenge. But that intrinsic push and pull, even when it might end in some tears, in one of the things I love and value most about having a life partner who is as passionate about climbing and this lifestyle as I am.

Have you ever cried on a climb??? Tell me about it in the comments below…

I worked for a woman once who had a wall in her office covered in photos. She was a big skier and most of the shots were of various mountains with various friends.

Even though I really disliked the woman and thought she was a hack, I had to admire her wall of photos. If I had to be like her in one way, that would be it. I wanted to have a wall in my office full of summit shots.

To me, that’s the way to capture the moments that count. Things come and go, but the experience in beautiful and wild places with good friends- no one can ever take that away from you.

To me, that’s the way to capture a life well lived. No one is going to talk fondly of the years of their life chained to a computer screen at crappy desk job or wants to hear someone brag about how much house cleaning they got done last Saturday. My friends know my motto is “a clean house is the sign up a wasted life,” so if you can’t handle dog hair everywhere, don’t come over to my house.

To me, that’s the way to show people another side of me. Yeah, I’m more then just your doctor, I have life beyond these walls a heart that seeks to be free as well.

To me, that’s the way to start a conversation with someone about what ignites their passion. When you can help someone tap into the inspiration that comes with being aligned with your passion and purpose, that’s where magic truly happens.

To me, that’s the way to remember part of what I work for. Being an entrepreneur is hard; I routinely have to do the jobs of several different people, but with a much narrower skill set. Some days it seems like it would be easier to just give up and get a ‘regular’ job. But then I think of the freedom I’d have as a successful entrepreneur and the places I could travel because of that… and suddenly a few extra hours behind the computer screen ain’t so bad.

Slowly I’m building my wall of photos. They are mostly in digital format for now as I still need a place to put them! How about you? What do summit shots mean to you?